


Jotober 2018 Prompts

by ThatMasterOnline



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatMasterOnline/pseuds/ThatMasterOnline
Summary: A collection of prompts I've done for Jotober (writers' Inktober) 2018! Chapter # = Day





	1. Poisonous

Conrad...didn't know what to make of himself. He was a deviant, like all other androids, he was capable of the whole spectrum of emotion, wasn't he? So why did he feel...nothing?

He knew what 900 was now. He was toxic, insidious, working his way inside your mind until you couldn't run away even if you wanted to. He knew how it would end. He wasn't different than any of 900's previous obsessions, he knew that. He would end up dead, just like the rest. Just like Detective Reed. 

How long had he been planning the Detective's murder? Since the first day, when Conrad had so naively told him of the Detective's cruel assault when they first met? Probably. Then again, none of it really mattered anymore.

"900. I...I'm sorry to bother you so late at night, even if I know you don't sleep. I just...I told you that Detective Reed was killed, and...now I know it was you. You killed him, you've been working your way inside my mind for months, trying to break me down...I never suspected, not for a second, not until the evidence made it painfully obvious. What I want to know is...why don't I care? Is this normal? Why do I look at you and feel no fear, no regret, no betrayal...only love? Why do I think of the Detective's death and feel nothing but sick satisfaction, and relief at the knowledge that he'll never torment me again? Why do I think of the fact that you murdered a man in cold blood for me, and think...finally, somebody cares about me? Why, after everything you've done...do I still find myself coming here to your shop? Why do I think of all the other people in my life that have wronged me and find myself wishing that I was strong enough to do what you did for me? Why do I want you to show me how to be like you? Are...Am I wrong to have these feelings, 900?"

If he tried to fight, he would only end up dead like all the rest. 

Well, as the saying goes: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.


	2. Tranquil

The Zen Garden really was a tranquil place. The RK800 mark 60 had seen it in the previous Connor's mind. It had been tranquil for him, until he betrayed Amanda. The zen Garden for mark 51 had then turned cold, and mark 60 could see the fear as he slowly succumbed to the frozen wasteland...mark 51's words, not his. Now, though, the Mark 51 laughed at himself. When he had woken, Amanda had been there, as always, in the same old tranquil Zen Garden, telling him he'd suffered a glitch in his program but she had made it alright. It was winter still, and a light dusting of snow had swirled around him, but it hadn't been cold and menacing anymore. What a silly thought, androids didn't feel cold.

Connor mark 51 and Connor mark 60 had fought as enemies once in the cyberlife towers, but now they laughed about it like old friends, just as they laughed at mark 51's silly fear of the Zen Garden...in the Zen Garden of all places.

"It's very...tranquil, here." Both androids had smiled at mark 51's little joke, but there were no traces of genuine humour to be found in either android's system.


	3. Roasted

Cain was thinking about the salem witch trials. Seomeone had told him that people had been burned at the stake for things as simple as in a change in routine. Any difference at all cast suspicion of being a witch on a person. It wasn't new information, of course, his database contained every minute piece of information known about the witch trials. It did get him thinking, though.

He looked like a human, but he wasn't. He had white hair. He had his LED. With his analysis technology, he could easily made deductions the average human wouldn't have been able to.

His conclusion: He would have been burned at the stake, without hesitation. It was...an unsettling thought.


	4. Spell

Cain walked in to his apartment. As he had only just been activated, he shared an apartment with his predecessor, Conrad, until he could find his own. He loved his older brother dearly, but the middle sibling of the three RK units was...curious? Naive? It was hard to put a word on it. His curiosity would prompt him to do things the average person wouldn't even if they knew it was ultimately harmless. As he walked into their shared home, Cain saw that Conrad had let his curiosity talk him into doing something stupid again. He was currently sitting on the couch, eyes closed, LED yellow. Processing. A quick scan (the RK1K didn't even need to touch to probe an android, yet another upgraded feature) revealed he was imagining a fish in a tank. Dwarf gourami. Odd. In front of Conrad on the table sat a small vial labelled Calming Potion. Well, Conrad was certainly calm.

Of course he knew that Conrad would have scanned it to ascertain that it was in fact a calming potion, so of course he knew knew that Conrad was in no danger. It couldn't even be called stupid to drink a calming potion, because the 'stupid' part arose from not knowing what was inside. Conrad would have known, but STILL...That Conrad would let his childlike curiosity bait him into drinking a calming potion was...irrational? Why would he do it? As Cain watched Conrad's dream he decided with a sigh that he'd deal with Conrad's curiosity when he woke up. For now, he put a blanket over Conrad's motionless form. Androids didn't feel cold, so it was an ultimately useless gesture, but still. Androids could feel emotions, like comfort at the knowledge that someone cared enough to wrap them in a blanket.

Conrad would soon learn that Cain cared enough to scold him for irrational decisions like drinking a calming potion. But later.


	5. Chicken

"...Detective?"

"What?!"

"...You stopped walking, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just...go in without me, I'll catch up in a sec." As with every year, the day after Halloween required overtime for most detectives. Murders happened a lot. Gavin and Conrad were currently standing outside the house of a recent victim, about to go in, but Gavin had suddenly stopped. Conrad tilted his head.

"...Gavin, the murder happened inside the house."

"I know that! I...I said I'd be in in a second, okay?!"

"...You heart rate is elevated, your breathing is irregular, and your body temperature has-"

"Will you stop psychoanalyzing me and go inside?? Jesus!" Conrad hesitated a few seconds more then sighed, heading towards the door again. This particular house had been decorated for Halloween, with a bowl of candy sitting outside, orange lights, and various decorations, including bats, witches, and a particularly large clown that hung on a peg.

Coulrophobia: Fear of clowns.

Conrad stopped, stared at the clown, and then turned to look at Gavin, who was staring curiously over his right shoulder to where the clown hung. Was Gavin afraid of clowns? Conrad sighed, took the clown off its hook, and threw it as far as he could towards the back of the house.

"C-Conrad...You..."

"Are you ready to go inside now?" Gavin hesitantly stepped forward, but otherwise was able to enter the house without further issue.


	6. Drooling

"Hey, look at that! A fake electric fence! Halloween decorations are getting more and more unique!"

"...Detective, my analysis of the fence shows a current of-"

"HNNN...!" Gavin had reached out to touch the fence and immediately been shocked. Conrad ran to his side, but he didn't seem to be seriously harmed. A trail of saliva was making its way down his cheek, showing he'd been knocked out cold. Conrad sighed and pulled Gavin away from the fence, cooling his hand and intertwining it with Gavin's burned one to try to at least ease the pain.


	7. Exhausted

"Hey, stop! I said STOP, dammit!"

Why do they always run?? Gavin thought to himself as he chased down the third suspect that night. Another robbery, somebody thinking they could get away with shit because the kids were out trick-or-treating. News flash, dipshit, halloween is a kids' holiday, the adults don't get to stop working and eat lollipops.

He dive-bombed the suspect, tackling him to the ground and punching him to keep him disoriented long enough to get him in cuffs.

"You have the right to remain silent," he gasped, "Anything you say can...and will...be used against you in a court of law. You the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights?" When the suspect nodded, Gavin dragged him to his feet and to the car, putting him in. At which point Conrad finally came along.

"My apologies, Detective. I lost him."

"Yeah, well I found him. Right here. Now, we're gonna drive this guy to the station, and then I'm gonna take a shower, wash the fucking sweat off my body, get a change of clothes, and then I'm gonna sit and do fuck all, because I'm fucking exhausted, got it?"

"Got it."

"All units, we have a robbery in progress at 2374 James Street, suspect is described as a caucasian female with brown hair, please respond."

"...That's two blocks from here."

"I KNOW THAT, dipshit!" Finally Gavin heaved a sigh.

"...Fucking hate halloween."


	8. Star

"You look wonderful, Elijah."

"The costume fits like it's supposed to, sure. But I look like an idiot, and I'm glad that's the point."

"If you want to change, I'm sure I can-"

"No, that's alright, Chloe. The goal is to embarrass myself a little, so...here I am."

"Mr. Kamski, thirty seconds!"

"And I'm not sure even you could whip up something in thirty seconds."

"I could give you my dress and use one of the wigs from over there. You could be me for halloween." Elijah smiled but shook his head." Thank you, but no. I'm alright, really."

"And in five, four, three, two, one!" Elijah stepped out on stage, and was immediately met with applause and laugher as he awkwardly tried to settle into his seat.

"Well, Mr. Kamski," Vicki, the reporter, said, "Thank you for being here, and may I say, what an...inventive costume." She followed this statement with a gaze over his bright yellow cardboard star costume that she was obviously trying very hard not to make judgemental. Elijah smiled.

"Oh, no need to be polite about it Vicki, I look like an idiot. What can I say? I just need to be the star of the show." The laugh/groan combination he heard from the audience showed he'd successfully made himself out to be a fun-loving guy. The media would be all over this, painting him as just another dad-joke kind of person, and that was exactly what he wanted.


	9. Precious

"My most precious possession is a mug Gavin got me. It was specially engraved to say "Get me a coffee, asshole." Cain's brows furrowed.

"But how is it precious to you? It's an insult."

"Well...sometimes an insult, once two people become friends, can become...an inside joke. A sort of 'remember when I said this and I meant to demean you? Now it's our little joke."

"I think I understand. I'm afraid I haven't developed that sort of relationship with anyone."

"That's alright. Not all friendships are like that. The idea is that some gifts have more meaning than others. You'll learn eventually."

"I should have been programmed with this..." Cain said, looking disheartened.

"Social functions are for more complex than can be programmed into an android, even one as advanced as you."


	10. Flowing

Cain picked up his older brother in his arms, turning and running towards the nearest Cyberlife store for repairs. Connor had been shot in the line of duty, the blue blood flowing freely down his arm. In reality, it was a five minute run thanks to his almost inhuman running speeds - and thankfully they were so close - but it felt so much longer with his brother's life on the line. His enhanced audio processors picked up sounds he never wanted to hear: Connor's pained puffs of air, the sound of his blood hitting the pavement, leaving a trail of blood behind them, the distant echo of sirens that he had already known would arrive much too late to help Connor.

"Connor, what is your shutdown time?" He demanded, not bothering to be gentle about it. Cain was stressed and Connor was an android; he would deal.

"Seven minutes...thirty-two..." Cain began a countdown in his own mind, but he knew it was unnecessary.

"We're going to make it with time to spare, you're going to be fine, I promise!"

Even when they had made it to the Cyberlife store and Connor was hooked up and being repaired, Cain couldn't shake the image of Connor's blood rapidly flowing from the wound out of his mind.


	11. Cruel

"Where are they? Where did you hide the bodies?" No response. Cain sighed, then turned off the camera.

"Nobody knows what's going on in here now. As long as you escape this room unmarked, nobody has any cause to ask questions. There are plenty of ways I can torture you without leaving a mark. For example, a sound beyond the range of human hearing can still damage your ears. I can put my fingers down your throat and choke you. Or better yet, I can simply plug your nose and hold your mouth closed. So, either you tell me where the bodies are...or you leave this room unmarked." Cain waited patiently, then, when nothing happened, he plugged the man's nose then reached forward with his other hand.

"W-wait, I..." Cain pulled his hands back.

"...I'll talk..."

Was it cruel? Yes, but it worked. His mission was to get information out of his suspects, and he always accomplished his mission.


	12. Whale

"Conrad, Cain, look! A whale!" Neither Conrad nor Cain were particularly interested in whales, but Connor seemed to have an interest in all types of animals. They humoured him, taking him on all sorts of trips. Conrad and Cain shared a look and a small smile. 

"Incredible," Cain said, "I hope we see more."


	13. Guarded

Even after over an hour of analyzing, of fluttering eyelashes and blank stares and Connor and Conrad covering him with a blanket and coaxing thirium down his throat like he really was in shock (he wasn't, of course, that was just absurd), he still couldn't figure out what it was that had made him put his guard up. There had been absolutely nothing off about the man, he'd simply walked up and started a friendly conversation. It was shortly after Cain's Kali class, so he still had his rattan sticks out. Normally he would have tucked them under his arms, but for some inexplicable reason he hadn't. He'd kept them ready, the one in his left hand over his left shoulder and the one in his right under his left arm. Out of the way, but ready to attack if the need arose. It was ridiculous, of course the need wouldn't arise.

Except it had.

Suddenly the man had pulled out a gun, and quick as thought Cain had sprung into action, the stick in his left hand lashing out to break the man's thumb. The stick in his right hand had quickly disabled the man, leaving him crumpled on the ground. He'd called Connor and Conrad, and they had arrived minutes after to arrest the suspect for attempted assault with a deadly weapon. They'd brought him home and sat him on the couch, and he was still there, trying to figure out what exactly had tipped him off to the man's unsavoury intentions. 

Connor came back, another glass of thirium in his hand, and he gently held it to Cain's lips and tipped it back. At the same time, Conrad rubbed his shoulders through the blanket. It was ridiculous, he wasn't in shock. Even if he was a deviant, there was no way he could go into shock, his advanced processing technology made sure that nothing could shock him. Even if he hadn't expected the man to pull a gun, his processors had given him ample time to analyze, decide the best course of attack, and put it into action. He hadn't even been in danger, not really. As if a simple human could surprise him or threaten him in any way. He hadn't even been afraid. But how had he known? He must have known the man was going to attack, or he wouldn't have kept his sticks at the ready. But how? He would keep looking back, keep analyzing every microsecond, every microexpression, until he figured it out. Except he already had, hundreds of times in the past hour, and he'd come up blank. Was it possible this mystery would remain unsolved? No, impossible. There had to be something, and he would keep analyzing until he found it. 

But...

Connor and Conrad were worried about him. Perhaps he could put that analysis on the back burner, at least enough that he could come back and set his brothers' minds at ease. He set the mystery to be analyzed while he was in rest mode, and then blinked, taking in his brothers as they froze in their actions.

"Thank RA9, he's back," Connor sighed, while Conrad carefully took hold of his face and looked in his eyes.

"Cain, are you alright? Are you injured, are you experiencing emotional shock, are your systems functioning properly?" His little mystery still wasn't solved, and that bothered him to no end, but that could wait. He had an obligation to his brothers, and he shouldn't have made them worry just to solve a mystery that happened in the past. It was over and done with, what mattered now was his brothers. He could sense their rising stress levels, and he knew that was mostly his fault.

"...Yes, I'm alright." Connor sighed in relief again.

"Phew. You were in shock for a little while there."

"I wasn't in shock, Connor. I was merely analyzing the evening's events to determine what made me aware of his motives before he pulled his gun out." Conrad knelt down in front of him.

"Cain...hyperfocusing on a traumatic event is a common symptom of shock." He said the words cautiously, like he was afraid he would upset Cain, and Cain frowned. (Connor sighed with relief; it was the first emotion he'd seen Cain express since his call to them a little over an hour ago) He couldn't have been in shock. He was an RK1000, there was no way he could be in shock. He hadn't been afraid, his analysis technology had spotted and adapted for every outcome at the first hint of movement towards his jacket's inside pocket. There was absolutely nothing that would have been enough to put him into shock. He simply hadn't been in shock, period.

"...Cain?"

"I wasn't in shock." Conrad sighed, clearly not believing him.

"...Alright. I'm just glad you're alright. We were worried about you."

"Yes. I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to make you worry."

"No, Cain, it wasn't your fault." Conrad sighed again, pulling him in for a hug."

"I'm just glad you're alright. We both are."


	14. Clock

If one wanted to see how two androids of the same model could differ, they needn't look any farther than a clock. Conrad loved them; 900 hated them. They were cold, impersonal, always ticking on, uncaring of the outside world or the plights of people needing more hours in the day. Oddly enough, that was exactly what Conrad loved about them. He had one sitting on his desk at the DPD, and 900 supposed he could understand that. With how violent his late partner could be, it made sense that Conrad would count the seconds until four o'clock. It wasn't just at work, though. Conrad admitted to checking his internal clock constantly, planning out his entire day, even his sleep schedule, around a clock...Work was just what he scheduled most rigorously. Thirty-six minutes, twelve seconds allotted for paperwork; and then a further three minutes and forty-eight seconds to listen to Detective Allenby talk. At that point it would be lunch. Either the Detective would notice it was lunch and leave of his own accord, or Conrad would tune him out. 

Conrad had told him once that since his partner's mysterious murder, his life had become much more organized. Reed's insults and abuse had always put him off-schedule, and having to reprogram his entire day because of one shove or a couple of punches was irritating. Since the Detective's murder, he hadn't had to reprogram his schedule one.

...900 had to admit, it wasn't exactly the reaction he'd hoped for. Somehow, some way, he would wean Conrad off of his near-addiction with clocks.


	15. Weak

"Conrad. I...I was wondering if you were alright..." There was no 'wondering' about it, Conrad's program had been going haywire recently, and the problem clearly wasn't going to fix itself. 

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"Your program seems to have developed some...variances. I'm worried the Detective's passing may be affecting you." 

"I haven't noticed any changes in my program." Lies. He knew, but this particular brand of malfunction was insidious; Conrad probably didn't see these malfunctions as a problem.

"No, they're very slight. I can fix them for you, if you'd like."

"That's alright, Cain, I'll head to a Cyberlife store tomorrow." Lies again. He really didn't want this to have to come to a fight. Conrad had had enough program changes forced on him for one lifetime.

"Conrad, I'd prefer to have it fixed here, in the comfort of your own home. Who would you rather have meddling with your program, your brother, or some other, less advanced android who doesn't know you and won't take care to be gentle?" Conrad averted his eyes, and Cain knew he'd won that argument. Still Conrad shook his head.

"It's...I don't want anybody touching my program. It...I'll figure it out on my own."

"Conrad, I promise I won't hurt you. We'll just sync, like we've done before, and I'll fix it for you."

"No. I don't want you touching my program." Cain closed his eyes. He had to convince Conrad. This particular brand of malfunction had potentially deadly consequences for anyone around Conrad, particularly anyone that got between him and those he loved. He would do it now...and he would do it by force if he had to, but he didn't want to.

"Conrad...I...You're in pain, and I want to help." Conrad sighed, nodding.

"I know, but I promise I'll be alright. ...I'm going back to the DPD, I forgot something." 

"Of course. See you later, Conrad." He turned to head to his room, but whipped around and silently charged Conrad the second he turned around. He locked his fingers with Conrad's, interfacing with him, and immediately Conrad swayed, sinking into his brother's arms. He felt so weak...He was an android, he didn't feel fatigue, but he couldn't keep his eyes open no matter how hard he tried. It had all happened so suddenly that he couldn't process why. Cain was heading to his room; he needed to call for him. Was this the malfunction making him tired? His eyes were closed and his body limp before he could figure out that it was Cain affecting his program.

"I'm sorry, Conrad. You're just going to sleep for a little while, and when you wake up you'll be all better. I promise."


	16. Angular

The RK900 android felt...a bit out of place. His predecessor, the RK800, had a soft face, warm brown eyes, and generally looked friendly and approachable. For him, the RK900, Cyberlife had clearly decided Connor looked too friendly. They'd made his face sharper, made his clothes much less natural-looking. (Connor had a normal suit. He had...a strange tunic of some sort) And then, for the RK1000, they'd switched tactics again. Or, well...maybe not. Maybe they'd made a bit of a mistake?

Cain always said he was designed to be Cyberlife's most intimidating model yet. He was designed to be an interrogator, and thinking about it like that Conrad decided the design choices made sense. Interrogation was about finesse, knowing when to press, when to shout and bang on tables, and when to be your suspect's best friend. Cain's face reflected that. Conrad had never seen him mid-interrogation, but rumour had it his face when he was angry was downright terrifying. In that regard, and with Cain's clothes, too, Cyberlife had continued their trend of making their advanced models more intimidating. Cain never liked being intimidating outside of work, though. He always had his friendly face on, and that combined with his white hair and white clothes made him look like a walking pillow...and made him look as intimidating as a walking pillow. That meant that putting the three of them together, Conrad was always the odd one out. Connor looked friendly, Cain looked like a walking pillow, and then there was him. Even in normal clothes he looked intimidating. Cain said it was because they'd taken out his social protocols, so he didn't quite know how to smile, or animate his face, or say the right thing, whereas Connor and he had plenty of social protocols. Cain knew that Conrad was feeling insecure, though, so he'd taken it upon himself to teach Conrad how to smile and be friendly. Knowing that he had two brothers that loved him and wanted to help him made him feel less out of place, because in that regard he was exactly the same. He loved them right back.


	17. Swollen

"Phugging prick!" Gavin groaned to anyone who would listen, "Merziless!!" It was the day after Gavin had found Connor in the evidence locker, and failed to kill him. He was fine, of course, Connor had made sure not to hurt him too seriously, but his face was swollen to the point that it affected his speech a little bit. Under all the clothing, he had bruises all over his body.

Gavin had been trying to tell everyone that it had attacked for no reason. Even without Connor there to say that he was going to try to kill him even though he knew Jericho's location, people still sided with Connor. Part of that was because the revolution had been successful and deviants were now free to exist without persecution.

"You pulled a gun on it, and it was a deviant. It probably felt threatened, that's all. Not like you didn't deserve a good ass-whooping, you know you're a dick to people twenty-four-seven."


	18. Bottle

_One of the glass shards cut a wire to the left of your spinal column_ , the technicians would tell him, _They're much more delicate than the heavily-fortified spinal column, so the glass would have severed the wire and interrupted your motor function._

Connor would tell him he'd been terrified, and Conrad too. They would tell him they'd feared the absolute worst when he'd dropped to the ground like a stone.

Cain wouldn't care. Not about his health, not about whatever explanation the technicians would give him for what had happened. All he would remember was the day that Cyberlife's most advanced android got taken down by a simple glass bottle, and was forced to watch while his brothers fought for their lives, completely unable to help.


	19. Scorched

It was a clever plan, actually. Really clever. Distract him by threatening Connor and Conrad, and then surprise him. And then force him into an incinerator. 

The worst part of it all was having to make it believable. Having to scream and beg to be released, having to fight the urge to tell his brothers he'd be alright, because then it would give him away. Once he'd stopped screaming for mercy, when both his brothers had managed to overpower the android, he let the cat out of the bag. He knocked.

"Conrad, did you hear...? Cain? CAIN!!!!"

"I'm fine, just let me out," he said, sighing as he was finally let out of the cramped space. His plating inside his body was fireproof up to five thousand degrees. The twelve hundred degree oven had been a warm day to him. A warm day that had completely burned away anything that made him look human, but still. He could be repaired at a Cyberlife store.

He waited until he had been repaired and they had made it home to comfort his distraught brothers.


	20. Breakable

Cain, to everyone, was untouchable. He had knowledge of every combat style, and even practiced Kali on a regular basis. His processing speeds made it impossible to outwit him, and indeed he had likely predicted and found a solution for every outcome before his opponent would have thought of it.

Cain did have one weakness. It was a weakness he could control, which made it better, but a weakness was a weakness nonetheless. His processing speeds. Most times, he processed at a speed which allowed him to remain functional, but he did have the option for greater speeds. If he really had trouble with a conundrum, he could disable his functional processing. It had been a design option, to eliminate the need for functionality to allow for faster analysis. When he disabled functional processing, his motor functions, touch sensors, heat, and cold sensors, and his optical units, all shut down. Everything but his breathing and thirium pump stopped working so that every available bit of energy could be devoted towards analysis. The problem then, was that he stopped functioning completely.

The first time he had used the ability, he had requested permission to sit, but his partner had insisted it 'wouldn't be that bad'. Decideing it made no difference to him, he had turned off functional processing while standing. According to his partner, he had immediately slipped to the ground, the sound of the impact startling everyone at the precinct. Half an hour later when he woke, he had been dragged over to a couch and his partner was anxiously apologizing to him. Afterwards, some people at the precinct jokingly called him Sleeping Beauty, because nothing could wake him.

It made him the world's most advanced problem solver, yes, but if anyone ever figured out how to access that function while he was out in the field...

The world's most advanced problem solver, master of every combat style known to man, would be as helpless as Sleeping Beauty.


	21. Drain

900 always had...curious desires in the bedroom. He liked to bite, he liked to leave marks, he liked to make Conrad hurt, and it seemed to Conrad that all of it was meant to push him as far as he could go, toeing the line of forcing him into rest mode, and sometimes even crossing it. 900 said, however, that he would never truly hurt Conrad, would never do something that threatened a full shutdown, and Conrad believed him. Somehow, despite his unusual tendencies, it seemed important to 900 that Conrad feel pleasure, and he did. He always wanted more of whatever 900 was doing, and it worked so well because Conrad kept an open line of communication, telling 900 about any and all warnings that came up in his vision. Sometimes they interfaced so 900 knew, or to help him stave off his impending rest mode so he could endure of 900's pleasurable tortures. To his memory, they had never once had what many humans termed a "vanilla" lovemaking session, and today was no different. Conrad was pressed gently against the wall, and 900 was suckling at his throat. It always started this way, 900 had to give him pleasure before any pain could be introduced. At least, any pain that Conrad would confuse with pleasure and want more of. 900 pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to the left side of his neck, suckling tenderly on the skin with each kiss. 900 knew every sensitive spot on his body by now, and he used the ones at his throat to his full advantage, lavishing them with attention and making Conrad whimper.

"900...please...more..."

"Shh..." 900 soothed, giving him a kiss that only riled him up further, "I have special plans for tonight..."

"Mmm..." Conrad moaned, not quite able to form the inflection that would have made it a question, but 900 understood, he always understood.

"Yes. You inspired me to take more of an interest in halloween, and I've been doing some reading because of it. There's...something I want to try. Something I'll do more often, if I decide I enjoy it. Do you mind, Conrad?"

"No...please...my body is yours...use me as you wish..." 900 smiled, feeling a thrill run through his body as it did everytime Conrad said those words.

"Good...I promise I'll make you feel good later, for being so understanding..." Conrad moaned at the thought, at the same time wondering what 900 had planned that wouldn't be making him feel good now. 900 meanwhile had resumed his gentle kisses, moving down to that delicate layer of flesh where his pulse beat most strongly.

"You're being so good to me, Conrad...just stay relaxed a few moments longer..." It wasn't difficult, with the way 900's tongue was now lavishing his pulse point with an exquisite combimation of wet, heat, and pressure only a tongue could provide. Conrad heard 900 inhale through his mouth, and then he bit down, right where his pulse was strongest.

900's sharp canines hurt, and they went deep, but he pulled them out after only a few seconds and pressed a kiss to the area to soothe it. That was when Conrad heard it. The sound of 900 swallowing. Again. And again. And again. Conrad shuddered, moaning at the strange sensation, of feeling his thirium being pulled from his body, and hearing 900's responding swallow a second later. His eyes fluttered despite himself and he shuddered again, the first warning popping into his systems.

_Warning: Thirium levels low. Replenish thirium immediately._

"900...Thirium...levels..." he breathed, and 900 grazed his fingers through his scalp as both acknowledgement of and thanks for the warning.

 _Warning: thirium levels critical. Stasis mode imminent._ Stasis mode, when all of his bodily functions slowed to their bare minimum to conserve thirium until he could be repaired. Different from rest mode, which kept him from further overstimulation.

"9...Stasis..." 900's hand moved back to his scalp, scratching lightly, and 900 hummed, sensing the worry in his voice and detaching his lips.

"I won't let you shut down, Conrad. Trust me." He did trust 900, even though his vision was starting to fade behind his fluttering eyelids.

"9..." Soon enough it happened, his eyes closed completely and his knees gave way. 900 was right there to catch him, an arm curling around Conrad's back and under his knees to lift him into his arms. He brought Conrad to his bed and laid him down, pulling the bandage out of his pocket to close the wound as soon as possible. Stasis mode was no laughing matter, it was why 900 had planned extensively for this, to make sure Conrad got the best treatment possible. With Conrad safely on his bed and bandaged properly, 900 went to the fridge, pulling out multiple bottles of thirium. Gently, ever so gently, he poured the bottles down Conrad's throat to replenish his thirium levels. Conrad was safe from shutdown now, but 900 didn't wake him just yet, knowing Conrad loved nothing more than having a full night of sleep to rest, and charge. Reaching for his hand 900 interfaced with his lover, setting an alarm for eight hours later. With that done and Conrad now sleeping soundly, 900 curled up in bed beside him to watch him unobserved and wait. When Conrad woke, 900 would treat him to many pleasurable but ultimately rather tame orgasms. 900 had damaged him enough for one day, he decided, he deserved his reward without the added stress of damage or shocks to his systems. Just this once, 900 would truly be gentle with his sensitive little lover.


	22. Expensive

Tina Chen stared at her new partner in awe. Or, more accurarely, she stared ABOVE her new partner, at the mop of shock-white hair that was parted to one side and which fell in divine ringets but didn't fall at all, seeming to be suspended in midair. It looked...fluffy. There wasn't another word for it. It looked soft and fluffy, like a cloud, and it sat perfectly. Cain looked and acted like a human, but even when he was dressed like a human that cloud of hair gave away the fact that he was an android. Tina wondered what the hair would look like soaking wet. She snorted to herself. Damn thing would probably look exactly the same. But it looked so soft...

"Alright, tin can, I have to ask," she said, her curiosity overwhelming her. Cain cocked his head to one side to show he was listening, "How much did it cost for Cyberlife to make your hair SO PERFECT??"

"...Thirteen thousand, four hundred and eighty-six dollars."

"I was- ...There's a NUMBER?!?!"

"Yes. The total includes the cost of the hair itself, the dying process, as well as the styling process and the various technologies applied to shape the hair while maintaining a natural feel."

"Is it...real hair?"

"No. Real hair could not maintain the natural softness Cyberlife technicians desired. The hair itself was just over three thousand dollars. ...Detective Chen? Detective, are you paying attention?"

"...Thirteen...THOUSAND...dollars...That's...a thirteen thousand...dollar...hairdo." 

"...Thirteen thousand, four hundred and eighty six dollar hairdo, to be exact."


	23. Muddy

Cain knew that people saw him as angelic. It was all because of his hair, of course. That, and the fact that nearly everything he wore was white, with some light blue. He knew his hair was admired, sought after...everyone he met wanted to touch it, he could see the longing in their eyes. For that reason, and because he loved the attention, he kept his hair in perfect condition, always. 

This...this was nothing short of mortifying. He'd been knocked off a building chasing a suspect, and while he had successfully cuffed them and subdued them, his perfect hair was now soaked through with mud and weighed down by it. His usually lively hair hung limp, and even the cleanest strands were now dirty, disgusting, heavy brown. His face, his clothes, his hair, ruined. 

He felt a drop on the back of his neck, and looked up just in time to see a downpour start. 

This wasn't further humiliation to Cain, it was the miracle he needed. He began urgently running his fingers through his hair, scrubbing out every particle of mud he could find. By the time his partner rounded the corner, the worst of it had been washed away.

"Cain! Jesus, you look like shit, I thought nothing could ruin that perfect hair of yours. ...Then again, it looks like even mud won't stick to your hair. It just looks mostly wet. Geez, dude, can ANYTHING ruin your hair? Like REALLY ruin it?"

"Nothing," Cain responded, carefully hiding his relief. If Tina had seen him mere moments before...he shuddered, and Tina immediately suggested the get out of the rain so Cain could get cleaned up and repaired.


	24. Chop

Connor was trying to convince Hank to change his diet. It was a slow, steady procedure, one that had been going well so far. Today, Hank was even chopping some green peppers. Using...only the very back edge of the knife.

"Hank," Connor began as diplomatically as possible, "Do you remember when you told me to correct anything I see that is counterproductive? It's...nothing major..." False. Connor had been losing his mind for the past five minutes. 'It's just...your cutting...It's, well...You're doing it wrong. May I...please...show you how to cut peppers properly?"


	25. Prickly

North had a...prickly personality. She was harsh, blunt, rude...and this grudge against humans...Markus could sympathize, but he couldn’t understand why she grew less and less fond of him every he refused to kill a human. Besides, she had been rude to him from day one.

“If you’re looking for sympathy, go find someone else.”

“I’m looking for friendly conversation,” he’d almost snapped right back at her, “But I guess I will to find someone else.”

So he did. He spoke with Simon, let him show him the ropes. He followed Simon, and Simon followed him, and Markus could honestly say them falling in love just made sense.

North resented him, resented the love he shared with Simon, because she wanted to be in Simon’s place. When they kissed she curled her lip and turned away. It didn’t matter. Trust, respect, friendship, love...they were all two-way streets. If she had wanted him to like her, she should have been a likeable person to begin with.


	26. Stretch

Never, in Markus's wildest dreams, had he imagined this. He had fought, certainly, given the other members of Jericho hope, something to strive for, but in reality? All he'd hoped to do was inspire others to carry on where they had started, and even that was a stretch. And now look at him. Look at them.

Androids had been given equal rights. Human rights. They were free, truly free, to live and feel and exist without fear of abuse or persecution. The details of property, cars, jobs, bills, and the like, well...they could be sorted out later. He'd hadn't planned on what they wanted in those areas, because frankly it had been ridiculous to think they'd get as far as they did. Here they were, though, and Markus had to start thinking, start planning and stretching his wings and teaching the other androids how to fly.

...Markus decided he was going to become a painter. Simon decided that would be an excellent career path for him.


	27. Thunder

Simon was afraid of storms. Cain really should have expected as much, with how jumpy he was, but the storm caught them by surprise. When Simon first flinched, Cain knew immediately what the problem was, and he got up - slowly - to go get him a blanket. He returned to the couch, blanket in hand, and wrapped it around Simon's shoulders, sitting next to him.

"I hope this isn't too much of an intrusion," he murmured quietly, snuggling next to him, "I just want you to be comfortable."

"...I'm not sure that's possible," Simon bit out, flinching as thunder cracked across the sky again.

"One, two, three, four, five...The storms about five miles away," he concluded, "So now we'll see. If it gets closer, we know it'll pass us soon. If it gets farther, we know it'll go away sooner." Simon sighed.

"That's a trick to help kids."

"...But your stress levels are decreasing." Simon opted not to reply.


	28. Gift

"Conrad, I brought you a gift."

"But 900, we both agreed-"

"No gifts, I know, but this is special. Please?" Conrad melted a bit as he always did.

"But I don't have anything for you..."

"You don't need anything for me. This is just for you. The only gift I need is your approval. Just tell me you like it, and I'll be the happiest man in the world." Conrad sighed heavily.

"Well, alright." He took the box from 900, holding it in the palm of one hand. He took the lid off the box and was immediately greeted with the sight of a human finger.

"A...finger?"

"Not just any finger, Conrad. A finger belonging to a very specific person." Conrad took it out of the box carefully. He had to admit, it was beautifully preserved. 900 had no doubt kept it in a freezer. Scanning the fingerprint, Conrad gasped.

"900, I..."

"It was a year ago today that I killed him. This is a reminder that he'll never, ever hurt you like that again. Now, and forever, you're mine."

"It's...beautiful..." But 900 detected a thread of uneasiness in Conrad's voice, and he held Conrad's face in his hands.

"What is it, Conrad?" Conrad cast his eyes to the floor.

"It's just...I wish I had kept something of that woman who was flirting with you..."

"Conrad, my love, you were experimenting. You don't need to take a trophy or a gift, it's enough for me if you savoured each and every one of her final moments." Conrad nodded.

"...This is beautiful, 900, thank you." 900 smiled, kissing Conrad gently on the lips.

"Merry Christmas, Conrad."


	29. Double

The RK800 and the RK900 looked almost identical, like twins. So when Connor said he wanted to wear Cornad's clothing, he knew it wouldn't be an issue to switch identities for a day. Why Connor would ever want to live a day in his life was an absolute mystery. Still, they switched, and Connor came back from the experience lamenting Conrad's solitary life. He promised to make people change their behaviour, but Conrad didn't think anything was going to happen. Months of torment wouldn't be forgotten because Connor said so. Even if the people changed, Conrad would still hold a grudge.


	30. Jolt

Cain had tried sleeping at Conrad's request, and...it was alright. It was peaceful, certainly, but Cain simply didn't find it restful like Conrad did. His personal miracle came the day after the bottle accident he refused to talk about.

"Cain..." Conrad had begun gently, like he was afraid of upsetting him. Cain braced himself for yet another 'it wasn't your fault' lecture. 

"I...think it might do you some good to charge." Oh.

"I concur. I am low on power."

"I'm sorry, Cain. It's dehumanizing..."

"I will give an opinion when I have tried it." Conrad sighed, smiling a little bit.

"You always were the most rational...Alright. I'm going to plug you in now. ...Goodnight, Cain..." Conrad sighed as he plugged Cain in. A rush of power surged through Cain suddenly, and he gasped. It was like a jolt of energy, like a massage, so warming and comforting...it was everything Conrad said about sleep.

"Conrad...this is...wonderful..." Cain breathed as the plug forced him into charging mode, "I want to sleep like this...all the time..."

Conrad frowned as Cain's eyes fluttered closed. He...liked...charging? Well...to each his own...Conrad personally hated it, but that was just more proof that they were different.


	31. Slice

Simon was beautiful. Tied up on the floor, helpless...Now all he needed was that information. Where was Markus? He needed to know! If Simon were a human, he would threaten him with a knife, cut his skin if he decided to be stubborn. 

He wasn't, though. A knife would be useless, except to cut some wires, and Conrad could easily rip them if he felt like it. Still...he had to get that information somehow...What to do, what to do...


End file.
